


Mine All Mine

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Charles Always Says the Absolute Worst Thing He Could Possibly Say, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: Erik doesn't understand what's going on with Charles, but he's getting some damn fine sex out of it so he's not too bothered. Then Charles goes too far . . .





	Mine All Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thacmis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thacmis/gifts).



> This is set some years after XMA. Erik has returned to the mansion and Charles. They've been together about a year. The timelines don't work for Cap and Bucky at all, but I don't care.
> 
> From a prompt by Thacmis on tumblr. Hope you enjoy :)

The first time it happened they were at a seminar called "Humans, meta-humans, mutants and mutates". Erik thought most of the presentations were overthought, but Charles was enjoying it so he said nothing. Tony Stark strolled over. Erik had met him before and knew how touchy feely he was, so wasn't surprised when Stark put a hand on his arm and kept it there. It was a sign of how much he'd mellowed that he didn't amputate Stark's hand with his flashy watch.

"Mags, good to see ya, good to see ya. I've got an alloy that's giving me some trouble, could do with some expert advice and who's more expert then the ol' metalbender himself?"

Erik sighed. "Go ahead."

They were deep in discussion when he felt Charles' wheelchair approaching at speed. He looked up to see Charles crash into Stark. Stark yelped and hit the floor, hard.

"So sorry, bit of a loss of control there. Here, let me help."

Charles manoeuvred forward and ran over Stark's foot. Stark cursed and staggered to his feet.

"Oh, dear me, I'm just making matters worse, aren't I?"

"No problemo," said Stark. "I'll just . . . I'll just . . . go."

He staggered off.

"What was all that about?" said Erik.

"Like I said, I lost control," said Charles, in a decidedly unconvincing tone.

Charles control of his wheelchair was legendary. He could do wheelies. He could do tricks. He played a vicious game of murderball. Erik looked at him. He put on his "innocent" face.

"Whatever you say," said Erik.

Charles stayed glued to his side for the rest of the evening.

When they got home he disappeared into the bathroom. Erik assumed he was doing his nighttime routine. He wandered down to the kitchen, scaring a couple of teenagers who were making out on the stairs, and made some green tea. He didn't like black tea, but he'd developed a taste for green. He carried it carefully upstairs, disturbing the same teenagers as on the way down. He opened the door with his powers and stopped dead.

Charles was reclining on the bed. He was naked. He had an erection. A red ribbon was tied in a bow round the base. Charles' erections were unreliable at best, so this was a surprise, a fucking fantastic surprise.

Why don't you come over here and unwrap your present?

Erik slammed the door shut and dumped the tea tray. He sat on the side of the bed, untied the ribbon and twirled it round Charles' deep red cock.

"How?"

"Something Hank was working on. This wasn't the effect he was aiming for, but it's what he got."

"Can you feel it?"

"No, but I like the look of it."

"Me too."

Erik rode Charles' cock that night. He rode it until he was shaking and sweating and his thighs ached. He rode it until his ass burned and he knew he'd be feeling it all the next day. He rode it until he shot come over Charles' belly. After he'd recovered, he brought Charles off by gently torturing his nipples, nipping his throat, biting his shoulders and scraping fingernails down his flanks and across his belly.

He fell asleep with Charles' mineminemineminemine wreathing through his head.

The second time it happened Moira had come to visit. They were sitting in the kitchen discussing a shadowy anti-mutant group she'd become aware of. Erik had come to respect and even, though he'd never admit it, like her. She was tough, smart and unfazed in the company of people who could destroy her with a thought. They were sitting side by side, looking at some papers she'd "borrowed". Erik had draped his arm over the back of her chair and their heads were close together. There was a change in the mental air pressure, like the build up before a storm. They looked up. Charles was sitting in his chair in the doorway. Moira jumped to her feet.

"Well, I think that's about it, Erik. I gotta go. Bye, Charles," she said in a excessively cheerful tone, face bright and blank.

"Goodbye, Moira," said Charles.

"Yeah, bye," Erik called after her.

He looked at Charles, who looked self-consciously unconscious of his scrutiny.

"Did you just mind control Moira into leaving?"

Charles laughed.

"Of course not. Why on earth would I do that?"

"Yes, why on earth would you do that?"

A crowd of children erupted into the kitchen. Erik let it drop, meaning to raise it later, but forgot.

That night Charles manhandled him onto the bed and striped him bare. Charles' upper body strength was exceptional. He forced Erik into twisted, obscene positions and ran those stubby, strong fingers all over him.

You're mine, Erik, all mine.

Yes, yes, yours.

Out loud.

"I'm yours."

Always have been.

"I've always been yours."

Always will be.

"I'll always be yours."

mineminemineminemine

"Yours, yes, yours, yours, yours."

Let me make you ALL mine.

Erik gasped and moaned, assaulted by those clever fingers.

"Yes, oh, God, yes."

They didn't do this often, Charles because it made him uneasy, Erik because it was dangerously seductive. He felt Charles seeping into his head, like rivulets of cool water. The trickle became a flood and Erik was drowning. Every sensation was amplified, but he had no control of his body or powers. He was Charles' golem. Charles lay face up on the bed. Erik knelt between his legs. He took hold of Charles' thin ankles, draped them over his shoulders and bound them with curlicues of metal.

You're going to give me exactly what I want, projected Charles.

Yes, yes, anything.

Charles levitated the metal capped tube of lube over with Erik's powers. He prepped himself with Erik's fingers. He was much more brutal than Erik would've been. He poised Erik's iron hard cock at his entrance and pushed him in, fast and forceful; Charles could feel the tip of Erik's prick if he fucked him deep enough. They both groaned; Charles had allowed him his voice.

Charles fucked himself with Erik's cock, fierce and relentless. He shared the sensation of the sudden appearance and disappearance of Erik's prick deep inside him. Erik was close to coming, so Charles tweaked something in his head and the feeling subsided. His fingers moved to pinch and twist Charles' nipples entirely without his volition. His hips snapped into Charles, cock sliding in and of that tight hole, driven by Charles' desire. One hand closed round Charles' throat, choking him. Charles struggled for breath. The room stank of sweat and sex.

erikmyerikmyerikmineminemine

His orgasm swept over Erik, taking him with him.

The third time it happened Erik had just finished teaching his German language and literature class. A small group of teenaged girls (and one boy) had gathered round him, ostensibly to ask questions about German grammar. Erik, to his horror, seemed to inspire teenage crushes. He was resolutely sticking to the subject and ignoring the fluttering eyelashes and pouting lips (and that was just the boy) when he felt Charles approach.

He wheeled up to his side, breathed "hello darling", grabbed his arm and pulled him down into a too-passionate-for-public-consumption kiss. Erik tried to pull away; PDA made him nervous at the best of times and this was massively over the top. Charles was strong. He hung on to Erik and damn near Frenched him. Charles released him. Their audience looked excruciatingly embarrassed (except for the boy, he looked turned on). They dispersed with muttered goodbyes.

"What was that all about?"

Charles raised his eybrows. "Can't a man give his partner a kiss?"

"Yes, but his partner would prefer he didn't slip him tongue in front of a bunch of teenagers."

Charles laughed. "I'm sorry, darling, I got carried away. Can you blame me, gorgeous as you are?"

"Don't think you can get round me with flattery," said Erik.

Charles put on his pathetic face. Erik struggled not to laugh.

"That won't work either."

Charles put his hand on Erik's crotch and squeezed. Erik startled and looked up and down the corridor. Empty.

"Yeah, that'll work."

He draped himself over Charles and they kissed, long and deep. Charles wheeled them into the classroom. Erik shut and locked the door behind them. He fused the lock just in case. Erik knelt with his legs on either side of Charles' thighs. They kissed some more. Charles took control, thrusting his tongue into Erik's mouth and then sucking Erik's tongue into his. He sucked bruises all along Erik's jawline.

"Charles, no, I won't be able to hide them."

Charles gazed at him, flushed from the top of his bald head to his chest.

"I don't want you to hide them, I want everyone to see them and know that you're mine."

A wave of possessiveness washed over Erik. God, he loved it. He succumbed and let Charles decorate his jaw with bruises. Once he was marked to Charles' satisfaction, he unzipped Erik's pants, popped his cock out of his boxers and gave him a tantalising handjob. Speeding up, slowing down, stopping altogether. One minute holding him painfully tight, the next barely touching him. Handling him as delicately as blown glass, then using his nails. Teasing and squeezing his balls. By the time Charles finally let him come, Erik was close to tears. Charles twined himself into Erik's orgasm, a burning stream of possessiveness, lengthened it, deepened it and used Erik's climax to bring himself off.

The next morning Erik was stretching on the terrace after his run when Raven strolled out of the French windows clutching a mug of coffee. They nodded companionably at each other. Erik threw his head back and rolled his shoulders. Raven gasped. Shit, he'd forgotten about the bruises.

"Well, well, well. Someone has been getting possessive."

"If you're talking about my jaw, that's shaving rash."

Raven burst out laughing and transformed into a facsimile of Erik. The marks along his jawline were unmistakably bruises. She changed back.

"I can ask Jean to lend you some foundation if you'd like."

He snorted.

"Or you could try a cravat. Do you still have that one you used to wear in the seventies?"

"That was a kerchief," said Erik, with great dignity.

"Maybe you could persuade Hank to hand over your helmet."

Erik made a grab for her. She twisted out of his reach and danced around him chanting "Erik and Charles, sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G!"

"Fucking Xaviers. One of you gnaws on me like a bone, the other torments me about it."

"I'm a Xavier-Darkholme if you please," she sing-songed.

"You're infuriating," he said, but he grinned as he said it.

"You're a Xavier-Lehnsherr if you don't please," she purred.

"Is that Lady and the Tramp?"

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You know Lady and the Tramp?"

"Some of the kids had a vintage Disney marathon. I was forced to watch."

She smiled.

"Forced huh?"

He smiled back.

"Forced. Some of those kids are vicious."

"Yeah, yours."

"Hey! Watch your mouth, Mystique."

They continued bickering as they wandered back into the house. Sometimes he felt she was as much his sister as she was Charles'.

The fourth time it happened they were at a fundraising gala for various mutant groups. Charles was networking with a clutch of senators. Erik was talking to Captain America. Captain America! He'd spotted him as soon as they walked in, but it had taken him a good hour to pluck up the courage to approach him. Captain America was his hero. He'd killed more Nazis than Erik. He'd been instrumental in liberating three concentration camps. He was a vocal supporter of mutant rights. Hell, he was a vocal supporter of everybody's rights. Erik was nervous about meeting him. What if he was good but dumb? What if he was boastful and vainglorious? What if pettiness leaked out from behind that perfect facade?

He needn't have worried. Captain America - "Call me Steve" - was smart, humble, self-depreciating and quietly humourous. He'd apologised to Erik for not doing enough for the Jewish people in WWII. Captain America had apologised to him! They were discussing the "Genosha" option, the creation of a sovereign nation state for mutants. Charles was anti of course, Erik was pro and Cap, no, Steve was undecided.

"But look at the problems the state of Israel has encountered," said Steve.

"Problems cause solely by their enemies."

"Partly by their enemies, partly by their treatment of the Palestinians."

"If the Palestinians stopped committing acts of terror, the Israelis would happily coexist in peace."

"Bit rich for you to be condemning acts of terror," said Steve, with a wry smile.

God, he loved this man. Erik laughed and was about to respond when Charles wheeled over. His telepathic presence felt . . . off.

"Apologies for interrupting, Captain Rogers, but we have to leave."

He sounded brusque, bordering on rude.

Erik frowned.

"Leave? Why?"

"Something's come up at the school."

"No apology needed. The kids come first," said Steve, smiling.

"They most certainly do," snapped Charles.

"Can't you take care of it by yourself?" asked Erik.

"No, I need you."

Erik felt a curl of anxiety in his gut.

"It's not one of my kids, is it?"

"Good god, no, Erik, no, nothing like that. I just need your input."

Is there something you don't want to say out loud? Erik projected.

Yes, there fucking well is. You need to stop embarrassing yourself.

Erik was shaken by Charles' words and by the anger that accompanied them.

"I'll leave you guys to it. A pleasure meeting you, Mr Lehnsherr, Professor Xavier," said Steve, all politeness.

"It was an honour to meet you," said Erik.

Charles gave Steve a thin smile and said nothing.

They shook hands and Steve walked away. Charles' telepathy flared up, painfully bright.

For fuck's sake, Erik, stop slavering over the poor man.

Erik's anger blossomed, just as bright as Charles'.

What the fuck are you talking about?

As if you didn't know. The way you were throwing yourself at Captain America.

Are you insane?

Really Erik, you were making the poor man uncomfortable.

You need to shut the fuck up right now, Charles.

And you need to stop behaving like a bitch in heat.

Stop. Now.

You might as well have pulled your pants down and got on your hands and knees.

Every scrap of metal for a city block vibrated and whined. People clutched at their jewellery. Charles' wheelchair shook and warped. Charles' telepathy was an avalanche hanging over his head, a crushing weight poised to sweep him away.

"Professor, Erik, is something wrong?"

Hank, looking concerned. The weight of Charles' telepathy lifted. Erik drew in his powers and fixed the wheelchair.

"Everything's fine," said Charles, brittle and bright.

"Yeah, fine," snarled Erik.

Erik drove home like a maniac, only his powers stopping them from careering off the road. Silence reigned. Charles stared out of the window. Hank, in the back, clung on for grim death, flickering into his Beast form.

Erik slept, or rather, lay awake in a spare room.

He dropped off as dawn rose. A few hours later a familiar collection of metal rolled into the room, Charles' watch and wheelchair, accompanied by a wave of guilt, shame and contrition.

Erik rolled over and regarded Charles. He looked terrible, great dark shadows under his eyes, face pinched and pained.

"I'm ashamed of myself."

"And so you should be."

"Will you let me explain?"

Erik sat up in bed and nodded. Charles wheeled closer.

"We've never been together for longer than a few months. Until now. You've never seen how jealous and possessive I can be. I've always been that way. I know it's ugly and I've always fought against it, but recently I've really struggled. You're . . . you're so powerful and strong and beautiful and I'm . . . I'm this bald guy in a wheelchair. When I saw you with Captain Rogers you looked like the perfect couple and I could feel your admiration for him. I . . . I was terrified. I've lost you so many times and I can't lose you again. I behaved disgracefully. The things I said . . . God, I wish I could unsay them. I don't expect you to forgive me. I'll understand if you want some time apart."

He fell silent.

Erik looked at him. A small, pale man in a wheelchair. Bald. Muscular upper body. Atrophied legs. Brilliant blue eyes. Bumpy, overlarge nose. Full, rose red lips. Strong, inelegant hands. Lines of pain and experience around the mouth and eyes and across the brow. A hidden power that could bring the world to its knees.

"I'm angry with you, but I've already forgiven you. How could I not given what you've forgiven me? As for wanting time apart, come on in, Charles."

A flood of light and warmth engulfed him. Charles saw him, all of him. Erik wasn't jealous. Charles was attractive, devastatingly attractive. People wanted to be his friend. People wanted to fuck him. People wanted him. Charles was a flirt. But the golden thread of Charles' love wound through Erik, body and mind, holding him together, stopping him from flying into a million shards of shrapnel, so Erik wasn't jealous. And Erik didn't want anyone else. Steve Rogers was a beautiful man, Erik admired him, but he didn't want him. He wanted Charles, wheelchair and all. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, his cock, his everything. Stubborn and conciliatory. Gentle and fierce. Genius and fool. And yes, jealous and possessive.

Charles withdrew slightly. Erik could once again tell where he ended and Charles began. Charles put the brakes on the chair and levered himself out of it and onto the bed, an exemplar of applied power. They pressed up against each other, arms holding tight, lean runner's legs entangled with thin, unfeeling limbs. Erik kissed and licked Charles' bald head. Charles dug his fingers into Erik's broad shoulders and narrow waist.

"My bruises have faded. Why don't you mark me up some more?"

Charles had him bind himself in metal, snakes of gold and silver coiling round his limbs. He necklaced Erik's throat with bruises. He bit his shoulders, leaving neat, circular bite marks. He clawed red weals across his chest. He shimmied down Erik's body and sucked his soul out through his cock. Erik's hips snapped helplessly as he shot come over Charles' face.

Charles pulled himself up the bed. Erik licked his own come off Charles' face and brought him to climax with a myriad of gentle caresses. Their thoughts bled together.

yoursmineyoursmineyoursmine

They lay there in peaceful silence.

Charles frowned.

"What is it?" asked Erik.

"Fuck, I'm going to have to apologise to Captain America."

Erik grinned.

"Just make sure you do it when that metal armed friend of his isn't around. He's worse than you when it comes to being jealous and possessive."

"You'd protect me wouldn't you? You could control that metal arm of his."

"Nope, I'd let him strangle you."

Charles tickled him to within an inch of his life.


End file.
